Loving You Forever, Can't Be Wrong
by Gevar
Summary: "It's fun to be hopelessly in love. It's dangerous, but it's fun." - Little Red Riding Hood AU.


**Loving You Forever, Can't Be Wrong.**

* * *

"It's fun to be hopelessly in love. It's dangerous, but it's fun."

—Keanu Reeves.

* * *

She's one not to believe in fairy tales. Most of the girls in the village, they do. Believe in monsters living in the deep, dark forests. Believe in endings where a fair prince will treat you like the princess you aren't.

No, not Hae Su. There's no such thing as four-legged monsters, with yellow, sharp canine fangs that tear into flesh. Like you're a piece of meat to be eaten. Monsters, as large as—no, even bigger than horses. There are horses. There are wolves. Horse-sized wolves are makings of an absurd rumour.

So, Su laughs at Chae-ryung's whimpers. "That are nothing but tall tales," she says, "designs to keep us women meek from venturing out to the woods."

Seon-deok's head shakes sideways. "I saw it with my own eyes," she swears on her late mother's pearls. Her fingers curling into resembling claws. Strikes one hand at Woo-hee.

Woo-hee ducks away. Seon-deok's 'claws' nearly takes her eye out. "Careful where you swing your hands, Seon-deok," she admonishes, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Sorry, sister," the younger girl apologises. "But aren't you the sword-dancer renowned for grace to evade any attacks," Seon-deok teases. Then she breaks out into a fit of giggles.

"Sword-dancer is not the same as a seasoned warrior under the tutelage of the greatest general in this country," Woo-hee retorts, lacking a bite.

"Hae Su," calls out an older woman.

"Coming," Su replies, then waves her friends goodbye. Back to a meagre hut for two. Just at the outskirts of the village.

She skips to the woman she calls her 'aunt'. The villagers bestow her a name, Lady Oh. The blood flows in the older woman's veins is neither royalty nor noble. She's one of the commons. A kindred spirit that works day and night to keep the villagers in good health. Herbs, spices and all-related.

Lady Oh. It's a legacy Hae Su's looking forward to inherit. One day. One day, she too will be the villagers' healer. And nothing else matters.

"Anything?" Su queries, as she closes the door behind her.

Lady Oh sighs. "Your cousin is desperate need for her medication," the older woman informs, "her medication ran out as of today, she cannot wait for day after tomorrow." She lifts a package neatly tied together with strings, "and I am afraid I must trouble you to send this package to her."

"If it's for Cousin Myung-hee, I will go." She makes it clear, that any changes Lady Oh might consider. To send another in her steed. Su will not accept another answer, than she be the bearer of her cousin's medication.

"Take heed of the slightest movement when you're alone," Lady Oh advises, a soft but worried smile lingers on her lips, "there are dangers in the woods that your eyes alone will not be able to discern," she pauses, tucks a loose strand of hair behind Su's ears.

"Yes, Lady Oh."

She continues, "Be wary of anyone, my child."

"I will, Lady Oh."

"Off you go, now." Lady Oh walks up to closet, produces a cloak. Its hue, bright red, like blood. It's the most magnificent colour Su's ever seen in Lady Oh's possession.

"Take this with you," she says, drapes the cloak around Su's neck.

"It's supposed to warn off any potential attackers," Lady Oh explains.

With a hug, they part and Hae Su sets to her cousin's home.

Myung-hee's different. Always stricken with an illness since she's a child. Her parents, Su's real aunt and uncle, cloisters her in a place away from pollution and noise that comes with staying within the capital.

She lives further away from the village. Deeper than most, within the forest. Where the trees, ever growing, ever twisting to reach the skies above, and sun light barely touch the moss-covered ground.

Guarded by armed men. It's a palace of sort. Tall towers, with plenty of good air. Or so her uncle says. Myung-hee never parts a single complaint. Su takes it upon herself to cheer her cousin. Whenever the chance arises—such when Lady Oh sends her to bring Myung-hee's medication to the tower her cousin calls home.

* * *

She thinks, she made a mistake. The kind of blunder often ends with a funeral. Her funeral.

The skies above her, stars-streaked, bears her no mercy. Her usual pathway is bleak. Dark. Hae Su wills herself into believing that she doesn't need any light. No fire to guide her way. Until find her way, she can't.

She can't abandon Myung-hee. She _will_ not. Hae Su forges on. Instead of sticking her usual route, she opts for a shortcut.

The path she deems a shortcut—is not remotely could be called a shortcut. Chae-ryung christens it as 'the highway to hell'. As of current, Su is in no position to argue about the moniker.

The trees in this area—to call them 'trees' is gratuitous of her. Far apart, they stood proud and tall. Like thin men, ravaged by prolonged famine. Their arms, the tree's branches, are bare. Only bones and dried veins of the leafless wood.

And despite the eeriness that slowly seeps into her bones, the moon shines on the ground, blessing her with some light to navigate. Dried leaves, her feet crunches with hasty steps. The wind whistles a hymn of a silent night.

She walks. Keeps her ears peel for any in-human movements. It isn't much. Just an echo. After each step. Not the wind. The wind died out long before. Her heart starts racing, blood rushing to her ears. And Su runs. Runs faster. Runs until her legs are about to fail her anytime.

Her feet caught over a loose branch, sends her tumbling forward. Su reaches out for the nearest weapon she could lay her hands on. A branch, thick as her arm, she holds on for dear life. Ready to swing at her future attacker.

There's—

No attack. Only a face looms over hers. A man. No, not a man. He looks young. His eyes, coal-like and intense, does not blink. His face hovering just inches away from hers. There's a large gash etched across his rather fair face. Her nose detects that petrichor scent first. Then the smell of metallic rust and dried soil.

He sniffs her face once. Then sniffs Myung-hee's medication once. He recoils in horror, jumps away from her. Covers his nose with the back of his hand.

"That stinks," he snarls, "what is that?"

Her brow rose, as she rises to her feet, "It's none of your concern," she retorts, but there's a slight tremor in her tone, that she can't quite shake. Hae Su collects her belonging. Dusts the dried leaves and dirt off her cloak.

He questions, cocking his head to a side, "Where are you heading?"

"To my cousin's place," is all she's willing to part with. No horse-sized wolves that scares her the most, but strangers. Quite frankly, his face is one she's not familiar with. Su remembers faces of the villagers.

"Isn't this too dark for you?"

"No," she answers a little too quickly for her taste, "well, it is darker than usual," she amends, jaws tighten at him.

"Usually, you people bring fire to light your paths," he scoffs, and in the same breath, monotonously asks, "Why didn't you?"

All the while, this strange man—not man. A boy. She reckons he must be a year or two older, not any younger than Su's age of ten and six. There's a wolf-skin over his head, like a chieftain's headdress of some kind. His face's smeared with soil, grime and dirt. And he's hunched over. Standing within the shadows the moon cast over them both.

She owes no explanation to him, but—"I'm in a rush."

"Alone in this place," he waves his hand dismissively around, "without fire is dangerous for ladies like you."

Su sighs. There's no way of avoiding this, but Myung-hee's more important than her wounded ego. "I don't suppose you could lead the way."

He knits his brow together. Pale lips pursed in thought, "Your cousin, is she the girl in the tower?"

"Yes, you know her?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Anyone with a pair of eyes can see there's only one girl staying in that tower in the middle of nowhere."

She's about to respond, when he turns around and walks away. "Let's go," he mutters. And without another single word, she hurries after him. Ignoring that little voice that sounds remarkably like Lady Oh's voice, _be wary of anyone._

* * *

His strides are large, that she's out of breath to match his pace. Sometimes, he stops. Only to toss a quick look over his shoulder, lips twisting into a sneer. Or a smirk, Su can't tell. With him so far ahead from her.

She holds in the string of insults Woo-hee passed down to her. He is not worth the breath she'd wasted on breathing. Instead, Su pushes herself harder. Her bright red cloak sweeping the floor, behind her—slowing her down.

"Hey, could you—" her voice trails off, she pants hard for an ounce of air.

"Could what?"

"I need a moment," she wheezes out. Folding her body over, the package lying next to her feet. _Almost_ forgotten. If he didn't make an obvious point to stand away from her.

His brow arches questioningly, "We're already here." He points a crocked index finger at the tower's brick gates.

It's when she finally gets her breath back to its normal pace, she gazes up from her feet—that she realises he's nowhere to be found.

"Dammit, I wanted to thank him," she says to no one but herself. She shudders at the mere thought of thanking her perplexing (and _condescending_ ) guide.

Myung-hee offers her a night to stay. After her ordeal with that man-child, Su doesn't object to Myung-hee's insistent pestering for a company. She washes herself up, dons the night gown that Myung-hee prepared.

"How did you get here without any light source?" Myung-hee coughs into her handkerchief.

"I had someone to guide me."

"From the capital?"

"You can say that," Su plops herself on the bed they shared, "enough about me, tell me about the boy you wrote in your letters."

She doesn't say that she thinks the boy in her cousin's letters sounds so fantastical. Because by the flowery description Myung-hee wrote, it does seems to her, the boy might be a figment of her cousin's imagination.

Being cooped up in the tower for your health does weird things to you. Or conjure up a boy that is too pure to be a human.

"Where did you say he is from again? Hwangju?"

Myung-hee nods. "His maternal family is from Hwangju. But he chose to live with his father, brothers and sister."

"That is?"

Myung-hee shrugs. "I-I didn't ask. He's a private man."

"Mysterious men are ones that you should be careful," Su reminds her of Lady Oh's wisdom on men.

Myung-hee chuckles, "I know, but he's a man with manners that the men from the capital lacked. I like that quality about him."

"Sure you do," Su answers, yawns into her hands.

"How about you? Any suitors that I should be privy to?"

"Not that I know of. Like you said, brains and manners are wasted on the men of Songak."

* * *

Perhaps the thing that baffles Hae Su the most is not girls believing in fanciful fairy-tales. But the fact that boy from forest trails after whenever she visits Myung-hee.

After one too many unwarranted observations, she stops in her tracks, wheels around to a view no different than when she's alone in her walks. She ditched the red hood. Warding dangers, it did not.

"You know you don't need to trail after me, like tracking an animal," she says.

Nothing.

"I mean, I rather have this conservation without you hiding away."

Again, nothing.

"All right, I won't acknowledge your existence as long as you hide—"

He jumps down from a branch of a nearby tree. Lands on his feet. Like he didn't jump from the tallest tree in the vicinity. He draws to his full height. Taller than she initially thought, that she barely reaches his broad shoulders.

Curious eyes blinking at her. Under the sun heading towards west, his eyes are not liquid black—not like the first time they met.

It's a shade of brown that she equates to chestnut. Precisely roasted chestnut during winter. One that she munches in front of the fireplace. With Lady Oh in her favourite chair. Her friends, her girls, trade secrets and meaningless chat on the floor.

She motions at the wolf pelt over his head, "Take it off, I can't see you clearly with that on."

He grunts his protest. And yet, he takes it off as per her command. He grumbles, "Happy?"

And he's—magnificently fair. Despite his dirt-smeared face, his high cheekbones, with jawline so sharp one could cut her hand open just grazing it and the strong nose. Exquisite. A beauty that would put most ladies to shame. Features that blends masculine charms and feminine touches.

Oh, Buddha—she's singing _praises_ of his looks. Internally. Of course, since they did not even exchange names. Or proper introduction.

"Wow," escapes from her throat, before she has the chance to realise what leaves her mouth. She turns away from him, hoping he doesn't notice her tips of her ears redden.

"Did you say something?"

She clears her throat twice, "I'm Hae Su. What's your name?" She risks a peek, and he hugs the wolf pelt. His tongue poking out from his lips.

"Fourth."

"Fourth," she flatly repeats. Crossing her arms over her chest. Squints her eyes at him.

He nods. That his bangs fall over his eyes. Obscures that finger-length crooked scar slashed across his face. There's no sneer. There's no smirk.

Su sighs. "What kind of parents name their children 'fourth'?"

"Not all of us are named Fourth," he counters, "there's First, Third, Eighth, Ninth, Ten, Thirteenth and Fourteenth," Fourth explains. Almost proudly. "My family aren't most family," he snorts.

"Do you even have a family name?"

His long hair flops left and right. "I don't think so," he pauses, "but Father mentioned that his family name is Wang."

She laughs. Like hooting laughter that she barely could breath, " _Wang_? That's the royal family's surname. You can't claim that as your surname, unless the emperor bequeathed the surname to you."

The boy, who says his name is Fourth, shrugs his broad shoulders. Nonchalantly.

"I'm not going to call you Fourth all the time."

"Then, what do you want to call as? Fourth's my name."

"So," she states, with her lips bear a wide grin, "I just feel like you looked like a 'So' to me."

And just like that, she makes a friend out of the boy who follows her in the forest.

* * *

She gives him clothes. Ones that Seon-deok stole from her father. It's combat clothes, but it's far better than the rags clinging onto his long limbs and slim body. There are holes on his previous clothes. Wide enough that Su could make out the outlines of other puckered flesh and jagged lines adorning his body.

That is—after Su forces So to take a bath. "Go to the stream, and rinse yourself with water and this soap."

"Soap?" So's eyes widen with curiosity.

"Yes, soap and you use it like this," she rubs the soap against her wrist. He leans down, sniffs her wrist and smiles, "I like that scent. Nice."

He does as he's been told. Returns later, with water dripping onto the ground. He grins, child-like. With a fresh towel, she dries his long black hair and untangles the knots in his hair. He sits still. Not a single movement out from him, since she told to 'don't move too much'.

He recoils at the mere touch of her fingers brushing against his face. She doesn't tell him, she feels butterflies in her stomach, and her knees are weak every time he bends to be on her eye level. It's just a _temporary_ infatuation, it will go away _. Crushes are transient,_ as they always say.

"Where do you live?" Su asks, as she works to unravel the last knots.

"In the forest."

"I mean, where do you come from?"

He chews his lower lip, mulling over his answer, "Chungju. But we move a lot."

New clothes and a bath, So is nothing like the boy she met weeks ago. He's all polished. Except for his outright refusal to wear shoes. He walks around barefoot. Still hunched. There's an awkwardness in his gait that she can't explain. Always walking on the balls of his feet.

He follows her around the village. Only to disappear into the forest as soon as she closes the door. His eyes are fleeting on anything and everything but her. He doesn't talk. Unless she posts a question. His answers are short. Simple sentences. He never fails to appear in front of her hut, at the first hint of dawn. Perched over the tree branch, big enough to bear his entire weight.

He's the talk of the ladies in the village. He ignores them all. Growls at men who came for health consultation. Bares his fangs, oddly sharper and longer than the rest of his teeth. It tickles her stomach; the sight of that smile of his. A smile that says 'There, I have scared the men away' and finds his achievement a success of sort.

And she can't quite finds it in her to be angry at him. His eyes crinkle into half-moon smiles. And for a fleeting moment, his smile overpowers that gash etched on his skin. One her hands are itching to trace.

(She wonders, from time to time, who would scar such a pretty face. The scar that brews more questions than any of his appearance. Adds mystique to his allure and charm. Su had seen her fair share of scars—none entices her like his.)

It's one of those nights where Lady Oh leaves to visit her hometown. And Su's tasked with overseeing the medication for the villagers. Until she returns from her trip.

She finds So lying flat on his back. One hand outstretched, as though attempting to reach out for something. In a distance.

"What are you trying to do? Reach out for the stars?" Su queries, remains standing. So drops his hand to his side. Shakes his head sideways. Hae Su could picture the frown that sits on his brows, as he replies, "No. It's the moon."

He sighs, deep and full of sorrow. Sits up and crosses his legs over the other.

She takes one step closer. The moon shines on his face. Never had he looked so breathtakingly beautiful, that she wants to trace his scar with her fingers.

"What about the moon?"

"It's going to be full again," and he releases another sigh, "Not going to see you for days."

"What happened? Is something wrong?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, his lips curl into a smile that looks strained on his face. "Go somewhere," he says, after a prolonged silence. "Will be back."

"You promise?" Su holds on her pinkie finger, and he stares. "You're supposed to hook your finger," she touches his pinkie and hooks hers around his, "and we shake."

Together, they laugh.

He eyes her, almost in a calculative gaze. For a fraction of a second, almost predatory. But he leans forward, presses his lips against hers—she melts into his kiss. He pulls her close, his arms wrapping around her waist. His lips, tasted of chewed peppermint and a tinge of coppery acridness.

The taste's brief, as her whole world crumbles into nothing.

It's only when she's out of breath, and has to pull her lips away from him—that they part. The ends of his mouth quirking upwards, cheekily. He waves goodbye. Slips into the darkness. So quiet. Almost as if he weight nothing more than a tangible paper weight.

Her fingers flies to her lips, lingering there momentarily. Then a satisfied smirk snakes its way to her face.

He _stolen_ her _first_ kiss. Oh, Buddha.

* * *

True to his word, Su doesn't see him for a few days.

Hae Su peruses her regular vendors for teas, cakes and taffies. By the third trader's shop, she notices four boys, all dressed in similar-cut hanboks. The highest grade the market has sold to the noble clans.

The tallest among them, with his long hair coiled into a loose bun, wears lavender's colour on him. Next to him, slightly shorter, the boy in blue, with a headband covers his forehead and stands taller than the remaining two. One has his hair fastens in a top-knot and mauve brings out his dark-skin. The shortest, loops his hair into a simple ponytail, with a headband too large for his forehead and turquoise fits him perfectly.

If Hae Su never met So first, she would think them four have to be blessed with looks so ethereal—Buddha might carved them out of marbles. Fashioned them for the admiration of many. For the eyes to feast, and that would be enough to satisfy any lurking desire.

She moves. They move. They don't blink. Their faces devoid of any expression. The shortest tilts his head to an odd angle. One of them repeatedly sniffs the air. As though he smells a scent that peaks his interest. The taller two, stands still. They trade whispers and murmurs—she only sees their mouths moving.

Then, they turn around. All at once. All together. They walk away, with a slight lurch to every few steps, before they fall into a regular walking gait. That gawkiness in their bearings disappears—like they didn't flounder moments before.

Before they disappears into the alleyway of the opposite direction, the shortest sprints at her. He stops short—just about to crash into her, but he doesn't. He's standing at the tip of his toes. And she realises he's not short as she assumed he was—he's still a head taller than she is. He leans too close to Su and takes a good whiff of her.

"It's you," he howls, low. "We found you at last."

His lips twisting into a lopsided smirk that seems so familiar to her. He tosses one last glance at her—his eyes are the colour of fire's ember. It's unnatural and she rubs her eyes twice. It's not amber. Just dark brown.

And she wonders, who are those boys anyway?

* * *

She repays all those missed promised meetings with the girls, by squandering her attention on them only. Prepares them their favourite teas and some moon-cakes. Picnic over the clearing by the creek.

Seon-deok nudges Chae-ryung with her elbows. Chae-ryung nearly spills her tea, throws daggers at the younger girl. But she clears her throat twice, pointing her chin at Su's direction—with her gaze set on Woo-hee. Woo-hee rolls her eyes, "All right," she snaps.

"We haven't seen much of you lately," Woo-hee starts. "Not since you went—"

"Since you started to hang out with that boy," Chae-ryung chimes.

Seon-deok nods in agreement, "Who is he anyway?"

Su recounts all the details of their first encounter until the part he _kissed_ her.

"Wait, you two met in the woods?" Woo-hee casts a side-eye glance at the other two girls. They trade alarmed looks between each other.

Su nods. "Yeah, I told you—"

"We know what you told us, but it's the _woods_ ," Chae-ryung counters, anxiety evident in her usually cheery tone.

"Like Lady Oh said, never trust a man who comes from the woods or the city," Woo-hee reminds her.

"I know," Su replies. They spoke no more of the matter. Enjoy the rest of the evening, falling back to old habits. Gathering flowers in the village's outskirts.

* * *

They often meet under the stars-strewn skies. Right after Lady Oh retires for the night, Su slips out from the hut and walks down the path she memorised with all her heart.

Sometimes, they kiss. And her fingers tangled in his hair. He nuzzles against her collarbone. The whiff of petrichor lingers on him, even after he takes countless of baths in the river stream.

They don't go beyond that. Not when they want to stir the animals awake. Or attract the waking ones to them. And so, they kiss. Deeply. Passionately, until she remembers she must return to her hut, before Lady Oh rises. And Lady Oh's an early bird.

Most of the time, they would gaze at the stars. Making up names for the shapes they could spot. Her fingers splayed over his chest, and he burrows his face into her hair.

He snores. Or rather, he purrs like a satisfied cat. In his sleep. She sweeps his bangs aside, and her middle finger strokes the jagged line on his face. Careful. Feeling the uneven skin healed many years before.

He stirs from his nap. Lips quirking upwards at her face. He launches himself at her, hugging her tight. Heat radiating from him, blanketing her with his unusual scent. That earthly aroma that he can't shake. And Su come to like it for all the days they are alone in the forest.

"We can't be long," she goes to say.

He nods, "I know."

And she remains in his embrace.

* * *

It's always before a full moon, he returns to his hometown, he says. Hae Su doesn't question his answer. Takes it as it is. She kisses him, like it will be the last kiss. As though they'll never see each other again. And he obliges, biting her lips just slightly—never breaking skin. As his way of saying goodbye.

The ladies are in front of her hut, working on a series of tasks Lady Oh has them preparing. She's too eager to spread her knowledge that Seon-deok, Chae-ryung and Woo-hee find themselves on the paths to be the replacements, should anything befalls to Hae Su.

"There are rumours spreading around town, that a girl is looking for you," Seon-deok whispers, harsh and not quite low.

Su pauses momentarily from preparing the crushed walnuts, "Rumours? Of a girl seeking me? Why?"

Chae-ryung's eyes widen. She nods enthusiastically, "Yes, a girl from Hwangju. All she says is that she requests an audience with the girl who is an acquaintance of a boy named Fourth."

The fact that So's actual name is Fourth remains a secret between them. And a girl of Hwangju knows of him?

Woo-hee's voice breaks Su out from her reverie, "As such there is no boy with a name with a number denomination. Not in this village. Or the next three villages."

"So, how does she looked like?"

"The girl from Hwangju?" Seon-dok taps her chin twice, plucking out chicken feathers temporarily on hold. "Not much, I've seen her around once or twice. She's tall. Fair, porcelain-like skin. Her eyes look a little empty, even if she smiles. Oh, she has a dimpled smile, that's what the men in my father's troops," the younger girl trails off, jogging her memory.

"—they say she's beautiful, but by what my eyes seen, she looks decent," Seon-deok continues. Clucking her tongue, she taps on her forehead three times.

All the while, a girl that fits Seon-deok's description, stands directly behind her. With her, she brings four boys whose paths crossed with Su once upon a time. They're dressed in the same garb she'd seen them before. Downright to the colours of lavender, turquoise, blue and mauve.

They stand at a distance. Away from the ladies. Leaving the girl from Hwangju to make contact.

Seon-deok's oblivious to Chae-ryung's panicked expression and Woo-hee's eye roll. "But there's something peculiar about her that I can't quite—"

"That is quite a description, I must say," pipes a voice that freezes everyone to their spots, "Someone has somewhat a vivid imagination," she adds, there's that hard-edge within the honey voice of hers. And the boys—they snicker, scoff and smirk at the ladies. Never a word spoken out from the boys' throats.

"Please do tell me more," she continues, "I would like to hear it."

"T-that's all," Seon-deok stammers, turning her attention quickly to the chicken. Her hands working at a tortoise's pace. For a child that known martial arts first before she's been taught the refined arts that a lady dabbled.

Chae-ryung and Woo-hee have long return to their own tasks, leaving Su to deal with the Hwangju girl.

And Seon-deok's description of her is accurate. But her eyes. They're not empty. There's so much within those brown eyes of honey that Su can't pinpoint a singular emotion. Thunderstorms. Those brown eyes brew thunderstorms, is all she could think of.

She asks, polite in every imaginable way, "May we talk in private?" One perfectly arched brow rose at the three ladies.

"We can talk in the hut," Su says, and leads the way. She enters first, the girl second. Su puts on a tea leaf into the pot, boils water in the meantime. The girl chooses to stand. Her nose crinkles every thirty seconds, and like So, she avoids Myung-hee's medication supply.

"May I get you some tea?"

She shakes her head, lips twisting into a dimpled smile. "That won't be necessary. Thank you for the hospitality."

"So—"

"I will cut to the bones of me seeking you out. Stay away from Fourth. He's not what you think he is."

"Which is? You seemed to know a lot about Fourth that you're not parting any information, in exchange of keeping me away from Fourth."

Su studies her guest. Her hanbok betrays its high quality, of deep rich purple and violet, with a magnolia hairpin on her hair. She bears the hallmarks of either a noble clan or a royal blood.

"I do not jest whereas Fourth's concern. He's dangerous," her guest replies, serious. "I have seen nothing that validates your fact, My Lady."

"Can't you trust the word of a lady over the kiss of a man?"

"Not when I do not know the lady in question. You seemed to know me very well, but this seems to work only in your favour, My Lady."

Unflinchingly and unnervingly persistent, her guest is one. "I am someone close to Fourth, isn't that enough for you?" Irritation dripping from her polite tone.

"Fourth spoke none of you. His brothers, yes. And you are—what? His betrothed?" Su sneers, jealousy pulsating from within her heart. The mere thought of So having a betrothed—

"If by saying that I am his betrothed, will get you to listen to what I say, then yes I am. Leave Fourth and never beckon him to this village again."

Su keeps her smile intact. "The decision is Fourth's to make."

The smile on her lips falters, "Not another foolish girl. I already have to deal with Eighth's quandary concerning a misguided effort to maintain a friendship," she says, more to herself than anyone. Her gaze is steel and soft all at once, "pay heed to your elders' words about the men of forest. Let Fourth go."

"I must apologise, for I will not cast Fourth away on hearsay," Su challenges.

The Hwangju girl takes a step forward, gazing down at Su. Su's not one to run away at the first hint of danger, keeps her eyes on the former.

"Very well, I have part you wise words that you choose to ignore out of your incredibly naïveté," she shrugs, "mark my words, at least. That if Fourth suffers, I will personally make it my future's goal to never mark your grave."

With that, she stomps out from the hut and heads back to the village. The four boys obey after her lead.

* * *

When So returns to her, she rather kisses him first. Each kiss takes her mind off from the Hwangju girl's warnings. So's all eager to please her. His kisses are hunger-driven. A little rough. But still tender as with his previous kisses.

They bask in each other's presences. Away from the village ever so curious about the boy named 'So'. Away from prying eyes. Away from loose lips.

Still, she finds herself unable to shake the girl from Hwangju.

"Tell me, my love," Su whispers into his ears, on a night where the moon's partial and he lays his head on her chest, "did you run away from your home?"

"No, why?"

"I met a girl," Su starts, and laughs, "She claimed to be your betrothed."

He scowls, "You met Yeon-hwa."

"Has her words a single grain of truth in it?" she snaps, sharp. Her fingers cease to massage his scalp. He whines, like a puppy, at her sudden coldness.

"She's not my betrothed," he says, after an eternity of silence.

She tries to stifle a pleased smile on her lips. But fails. And she's tempted to slap a kiss on his lips right now.

"Yeon-hwa and I share an intricate bond," he divulges, "It is beyond what you perceived, we are one and we are many more." His replies, cryptic, provides no immediate relief. He cocks his head to a side, brown eyes studying her features.

"Did she want something?" So asks, when silence slithers between them and refuses to leave. He gathers her tiny hands in his large, calloused ones. His eyes cast on their hands. End of his lips set in downturn.

Su frowns. Lips parting to say something. Anything to rebuke his attempts to simmer the fire in her heart and chest. But how could she? When the boy she loves, is earnest—too much like a lost puppy, seeking for her forgiveness. When he commits no wrong.

"If you must know," he confesses, "you have my heart." So inclines his body forward, nuzzling on her earlobe. And she finds it hard for her to shove him away.

There's this inherent—selfish—need to claim him as hers. He said himself, that the girl from Hwangju is not his betrothed. All for Su knows, they could be siblings.

And she laughs at the absurdity of her line of thought. He pauses, one brow questioningly raised at her, "Did I tickle you?"

"No, you did nothing of that kind."

Su lets So steal another kiss from her. And another. Then presses her finger onto his lips, stopping him from moving forward again.

"The astronomers of Songak officially announced that in the next few nights, we will be seeing the red moon." So's about to interject, but Su doesn't let him get a word in, "It won't be for another fourteen years. And who knows where we will be in fourteen years."

"That's when the moon is full," he says, his brows knit together. He pulls the wolf pelt over his head, rubs his chin.

Even under the sparse moon light, she could see stubbles forming on his jawline. And she grazes her fingertips along his jaw. Feels coarse hair prickling underneath her finger-pads.

Su singsongs, "Yes, and it will pretty. I always wanted to see the red moon with you."

"I am to return to my hometown," he replies flatly, conflicted, and glances at the crescent moon. He tightens his grip over the wolf pelt. That his knuckles turn white. And his root-like veins popping against his fair skin.

His eyes at times are clear as a book she could read. An emotion at a time. And there's a few moments in between, almost rare as a sighting of a tiger in the forest, where his eyes are not brown—but black and unreadable, with a surreal haunting quality reflect in those obsidian eyes.

(A stark contrast to Yeon-hwa's thunderstorm-plagued brown eyes. And now that she thinks properly, without her emotions getting the best of her, they do have the same eyes—eyes that shift colours underneath the sun-lit skies or the stars-strewn canopy overhead.)

"All I ask for is a night, just you and me," she presses a soft kiss against his collarbone, and her hand crawls onto his thigh, "and a ravishing night that neither one of us will ever forget."

With Lady Oh preoccupied at Naju, Su is a woman free of her mother figure's hawk-like supervision. Every night as she drifts into slumber, she dreams of domestic bliss with the boy with 'Fourth' as his name. For once, she would like to have the dream play out in real life.

His ears perk up with interest, and So quirks a smile. He flicks his fringe away from his face, "Only a night?"

"Just one night is all I want you to grant me," she replies.

"As you wish," he concedes, "If you could. I would like to see you in that red hood again."

"If that is all it takes for you to be with me at that time, then I shall wear it."

* * *

As the days approaching to the lunar eclipse, So's restless and languid. In the span of two movements. His eyes tracks after a rabbit in an intense trance, he licks his lips over and over. As though he's about to pounce on the hopping creature. But then, he falls back to his back and rolls to his side. And loses himself to sleep.

The pattern is even evident. Especially when the sun sets in the west, and the crickets perform their night symphonies, So would disappear for an hour or three. Returns all energetic and runs his mouth in his earnest effort to explain what he'd been up to.

It's a different story with the sun sky high and all he wants to do is lie sleeping on a bed of fallen leaves.

Most of the time, she leaves him be.

She hunts down the books she remembered Chae-ryung procured for Woo-hee's courtesan friends. Those raunchy novels that elicit natural blushes within anyone whose eyes chanced upon those novels.

Once in a while, she catches the outlines of Yeon-hwa's form in the corners of her eyes. Her lips pressed into a thin line, then she would shift her gaze at someone else and Su could imagine her clicking her tongue in disapproval as if she's privy to Su's plans.

* * *

The day they've been waiting for, arrives like any other day.

She goes about her day as in accordance to the instructions Lady Oh left her. At the first hint of the cricket's symphonies, her lips split into a wide grin of excitement. She soaked up the books she devoured like rice cakes. Memorised every intimate details that would easily paint her as a loose lady.

He meets her at the hut. His hair dishevelled. Sticking out in wild directions, despite his best attempts to smoothen his ponytail into a bun. And she still finds him unimaginably magnificent. He wears hanbok that hangs loose on his body.

She will have to thank Chae-ryung for his non-combat clothes. The colour of orange and olive surprisingly moulds him—almost like he's the son of a nobleman. A combination that Su didn't think it would look good on any poor soul.

"I know a place," he says, reaches a hand out to her cheek, "to where we could see the moon closer to us," his voice lacks warmth. Distant almost.

His fingers curling around her wrist. His skin burns, as though the sun reddened him for endless hours on a summer's day. And she's tempted to pull her hand away, as sweat forms around her wrist.

When he remembers she's a young maiden—it's not in her best interest to be seen with a boy like him. He lets go, and she sighs a relief breath. She knows her wrist will be red with sore tomorrow. And Su wishes not to be the first to pull her hand away from the boy who fears the touch of others.

He weaves his way through the forest, easily. Like his eyes see a path that she doesn't. He's all stealth, barefooted and him standing on the balls of his feet. She tumbles a little, over fallen branches, twigs, tree's roots and her cloak.

He extends a hand. Helps her to her feet. Before they continue in their journey. It feels like time stands still, as he brings them further into the forest. The skies are star-filled, stretching endlessly above them. Makes no show of any passing of time.

Words did not leave either of their throats. And perhaps, it's for the best. Her ears capture the nature's cacophonies—purely unfiltered by the sun overhead. Absence is the fear that was once her constant companion as she makes her rounds to Myung-hee's home.

The sound of rushing water grows stronger with each step she makes. It's when he finally stops in his tracks, turns to her and smiles—she allows herself to take a deep breath and stare.

The ground beneath her feet are not fallen leaves and moss. Solid granite rocks. And they stand on a cliff overlooking the river, waterfall gushing merely several feet away. Mists form at the lower pool. Cool water splashes against the rocks and trees rowing between the cracks.

"This is beautiful," she breathes out, panting.

"It's my secret place," he says, his lips curving into a playful smile. "Do you like it?"

"Like it?" She lifts her eyes from the view to him, grins. "I love it."

Moon's yet to peek over the skies, and he's shivering. She puts a hand over his forehead, his body burning with fever. Beads of sweat forming above his brow.

"If you are unwell, we should not be out here in the woods," she cautions, wipes the sweat with her handkerchief.

"No, I just need a little time," he rasps, "I am fine."

After a while, the moon, hue of crimson and amber, rises to the skies. They retreat into the grassier part of the cliffs. They sit on a bed of dried leaves. He lies on his back, hands behind his head. She remains sitting cross-legged. They admire the moon. She in morbid fascination at the moon stained with the colour of blood. He's keener on their surroundings than the moon.

"Come here," So beckons. She rolls on his chest. Her chin against his well-defined chest, and she traces swirls with her fingers on his exposed chest. His fingers twirling with her hair.

So unfastens the strings to her red cloak, and tosses it aside. It unceremoniously falls into the carpet of leaves.

And they kiss. Sucking out air from each other's lungs. Her tongue flicking around his mouth. He bites her lower lip, gently without slicing her lip open. His hand flies to her waist. Holding her steady. She cups his face with both hands.

His stubble prickles her fingers. Coarse hair now feels longer, akin to the animal pelt So always wear during their night strolls.

Just then she hears it—

That faint noise of twigs crackling and growing. In a distance.

And she turns away from his face. Glances into the darkness ahead of them. Not a single sight of any animal, as far as her eyes could see.

So's body trembles underneath her. Violently convulsing.

The barely audible crackling persists. She puts more attention to her hearing. Realises she got it all wrong. It's not the sound of twigs being stepped on. It's—the sound of bones reshaping and extending themselves.

Bones. Elongating with a rapid force. His grip—tender it is not, but a crushing iron grip. His fingers feel longer on her waist. His fingernails ( _claws_ , her mind screams) scrapping against her hanbok, tearing the fabric.

Hae Su gulps down her saliva, desperately keeping her muscles from tremoring. She sneaks a gaze at him. Her So.

His jaws widens forward, grows larger to adjust his canines fangs—sharper and longer. His tongue long, goes over his vicious-looking teeth. And his eyes—they're neither black like obsidian or chestnut's hue—glows bright, amber-like. Flecks of red in those ochre-coloured eyes.

His face contorting with excruciating pain. Several conflicting emotions all fighting to imprint a state of mind on his face. On him. In the briefest of moment, Su sees the boy who looks at her like she's his sun. That boy who she calls him her lover, stares back at her.

He roars, deep and loud, "R-run!"

She wastes no time. Bolts from him. Her legs carries her as fast as she could, into the forest. She rubs her body against trees, up to a certain point. She comes across a pile of soil. Scooping the soil, she smears them all over her. Then runs to the opposite direction.

She finds a small ditch. Not too small that she can't fit in. Shrubs and roots provide sufficient cover to hide her from his sight the very least. She leaps into the ditch. Sits quietly. Her legs drawn up and she hugs her chest tight.

Her efforts to mislead him ends in failure. So—no, Fourth. He's on her heels. His howls tear through the quiet night.

He stalks the forest, like it's a mere playground. He catches up with her quick. His ragged breath echoes across the silent coast. She's shaking. Shaking so hard, that she no longer can tell if her heartbeat will the end of her. Or the pounding she hears, is all in her own imagination.

She prays to Buddha. To let her live tonight. And she promise—and she promises, she will never trust a man of the forest again.

She pauses in her prayers. Footsteps thud against the ground. It's—it's heading right to where she's hiding. And that ragged breath hovers above the shrubs that serves as a flimsy protection between the beast and her.

This is it. This is how she will die. Tonight on the lunar eclipse she'd pestered him to go. It clicks in her mind. Everything. From his peculiar gait—to his sensitive nose—to the girl who warns Su of a terrible nightmare—to him always disappearing during full moon.

Dirtied claws rip the shrubs and vines, like it bears not more than a feather. The face that looming over Hae Su. Not a man. Not a wolf. Something in between. He stretches a hand, lifts her from the ground. He snarls. He growls.

His fur's ebony. Like the moonless and starless skies. His eyes. They are wild and golden. Empty. Not hint of the boy she named So.

He leans, stale drool leaking from the sides of his non-human jaw. He lurches to land a bite, Su closes her eyes. Waiting for his teeth to shred her face off. Instead, she lands on her bum. A heavy-set mass hurls itself at Fourth.

Another creature—just like Fourth. Except this is smaller in stature. Its fur, russet and longer. On fours, it pins Fourth down to the ground. Its eyes—locked with Su's. Golden, like So's. But it's so much more than wild and empty. Its eyes conjure only one word Su could think of—thunderstorms.

It commands, mangled and distorted her voice that Su barely could hear. And yet she knows what those muffled words are, "Run, you foolish girl!"

Hae Su runs.

Behind her, Fourth and the Hwangju girl clash. They wrestle for control. Then a whimper Su hears. Not masculine-and vicious. But the wounded howl of a smaller creature. Fourth's coming. He's hunting her down. That much Su knows—

And he stands tall, proud. Larger than a horse. Ha! A horse-sized wolf. It's not a rumour, Su. It's the truth all along.

Fourth bares his fangs. One large foot slams against the ground. And the other foot stomps the ground. He does not rush. Not like before. He takes his time. His head tilted to the same odd angle she remembers seeing on the turquoise hanbok boy.

Her legs won't stop shaking. Her hands too. She doesn't blink. Or did she? The tears are blurring her vision. She blinks her tears furiously away.

She wishes to see the faces of her friends wearing satisfied expressions at Su's admission that she was wrong. They were right. About the rumours. About everything.

Oh, Myung-hee. She's thankful that she hugged Myung-hee on her last visit, and gifted her with a poem Su personally copied for her dearest cousin, Qu Yuan's Li Sao (The Lament).

And Lady Oh. She will always cherish the knowledge Oh Soo-yeon diligently bestowed on her. Su hopes that Lady Oh would love the handkerchief Su seamed for her upcoming birthday. It's hidden underneath the piles of book Lady Oh frowns upon.

Hae Su thinks of the moment So stolen her first kiss. How happy she was—

* * *

If you ever find yourself lost in the deep dark woods, you don't cry. Let the colour red do the talking for you. He creeps silently. Blinks twice, he'll appear. You know he's there. When your nose catch the faint scent of petrichor and earth.

He wears a wolf pelt over his head. There's an ancient gash slashed across his face. He's barefoot. That his feet caked with mud, grime and all things alive. He walks, in the most uncomfortable gait you'll see. You will doubt your eyes. For his beauty is incomprehensible and perhaps, you'll harbour some sort of desire, or infatuation for him. Those feelings are fleeting at best. You'll forget those feelings once you're surrounded by houses and civilisation.

You don't mouth a word out. Not until he poses a question first.

It's always, "Where are you heading?"

And he'll cock his head at the oddest angle.

Then you answer. He'll lead you back to the village. Then he disappears again.

* * *

This is what the rumours never tell you.

He's not so mysterious. His name is So, or used to be. His hair is no longer coiled loosely into a bun. It's fasten with a chopstick. That topknot.

If you walk further—deeper—into the woods, where the sun doesn't shine at all.

Somewhere along the bare trees, there's a grave. You know it's a grave, there's a tombstone. Crudely carved, but solid. On it, a name appears—written as though there are no mallet or chisel at hand, and animal's claw engraved that name.

And not, it's not inscribed by man once known to many as So. But the one girl—no, she's a lady and a mother now—who always cleans up after the messes left committed by men of the forest, who built the tombstone with her own hands.

Most of the time, you could see the man, who calls himself Fourth to people who ask, perched over the branch above the tombstone. Once in a while, you'll see a child or two—even five, playing nearby. And a woman ever watchful of her cubs.

* * *

And if you wait long enough until the family of six long left the tomb, you'll get the chance to read the name etched on the tombstone.

You'll see. You'll read.

 _Hae Su._

* * *

Fin.


End file.
